Newcastle, 1986
     
               A damp grey, of speckled sand
               and tangled black
               dried by the sun.
               Scrambling ants
               kicking sand.
               I feel this place and I are one.

               A hill of green - spartina grasses
               tops a jumbled tide-strewn sand.
               A swallow sweeps
               in fluttering passes
               and cares not which is beach
               or man.
 
 
 
copyright Michael R. Martin, 1998
all rights reserved